


All of My Movements are Coldly Calculated

by rabidicity



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Feels, Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-11
Updated: 2012-10-11
Packaged: 2017-11-16 02:54:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 747
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/534690
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rabidicity/pseuds/rabidicity
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A brief scene just after the reunion in purgatory</p>
            </blockquote>





	All of My Movements are Coldly Calculated

That first night together is tense to say the least.

Benny and Cas are metaphorically, and sometimes physically, circling each other like weary junkyard dogs. Not quite to the point of growling, but there have been one or two flashes of teeth, Dean notes.

Castiel leads them to what can only be described as a nest in the deep crevices of dark and solid rock. The faint sound from the burbling stream makes Dean think of those weird miniature tranquility fountains people in the real world set on their desks.

"It's like the Ritz Carlton," he quips pressing a hand experimentally to the soft moss Cas has fashioned into bedding. Cas shifts back and forth beside him, thrumming with a restless energy that Dean can almost feel prickling against his skin.

"You should rest," the angel murmurs, casting his eyes about.

"Yeah, okay. Wake me in a coupla hours. I'll take a turn at watch, then you two can get some shut eye." Dean clamors into the makeshift bed, startled by the sudden weight of tiredness crashing into his bones.

"I don't require rest," Castiel's voice is a slow rumble quickening Dean's path to sleep.

Benny makes to ascend into the little nook and Dean feels the air ripple with power. It snaps through the little space like a sail caught in a hard wind. His heart thumps solid and quick in his throat at the sight of Cas blocking the entrance. Jimmy had not been a big man, but Dean can sense, in an animal way, that the space all around Cas's human frame is taken up; barricaded by invisible wings unfurled and crackling with eons-old energy and not a little judicious wrath.

"No. Not you." Castiel's true voice curls like smoke at the edges of the meager sound created by borrowed and fragile human vocal cords. The rock bed physically resonates with the echo.

"Guys! Knock it off." Dean pushes himself to his knees hands clenching, reaching for his modified glaive. He has no idea if can he really stop them should they decide to go toe-to-toe. It's not as if he has a squirt bottle - an errant thought. Unbidden, the image of Benny and Cas squabbling like cats (complete with ears and puffed-up tails) being separated by spritzes of water tears a rough and grated laugh from his throat.

The preternatural creatures have the audacity to look at _him_ like he's crazy.

"Cas, c'mere." Dean collapses back down on the bed and waggles his fingers in a beckoning fashion. Castiel regards him - jaw tight, lips pressed into a thin line. His eyes narrow as he turns to face Benny, still puffed up a bit.

Benny is the one who backs down, releasing his hold on the lip of the cavern. He glowers up at the angel, his eyes are dark slashes in his face.

"Guess I'll take first watch then," Benny grouses. Cas does not turn his back until he is satisfied with distance between them. Benny is a dark shape hovering at the water's edge.

"Cas." Dean huffs against the moss, it smells like green. Castiel comes, stands next to the bed.

"You can rest now Dean. I will watch over you." Dean pats the space next to him, limbs already heavy with the promise of sleep. He makes a muffled sound against the moss and Cas understands it for the plea it is. Cas gives a long-suffering sigh and eases into the bed. Dean can tell before he opens his own eyes that those unworldly blues will be locked onto his face.

"Glad I found you. Glad you let me." Dean's words are thin wisps of thing - faint and fading almost before they are spoken.

"Dean. I'm sorry there was no time to explain." Castiel's eyes are huge, heavy with the sadness of a thousand years.

"Yeah, well don't do it again. We stick together. Got it Cas? No bailing on me, not again." Dean stares hard into those fathomless blues all full of the universe and creation and whatever. He reaches out and clamps a hand around Castiel's deceptively thin wrist. "I mean it Feather Duster." His grip tightens and he gives the angel a little shake.

Castiel looks away first, mouth twisting into an unhappy moue. "I understand."

Dean does not release Castiel. He snuffles, shifting closer - feeling the safest he can recall feeling in...ever.

Dean falls asleep with his thumb tracing faint circles into the angel's borrowed skin.


End file.
